The Lowlanders' Grand Game - Side Stories
by White Phantom
Summary: Stories in no particular order that flesh out the characters and world of The Lowlanders' Grand Game. Not a part of the main story. Avvar!AU in which over a dozen DA characters show up in different Avvar clans.
1. An Epilogue of Sorts

_A/N: This is a side story of sorts for The Lowlanders' Grand Game. Originally it was going to be an epilogue, but it didn't really fit in at the end, so think of this as a mini sequel. Updates to this story will not be in chronological order, as each chapter will be a different side story that fleshes out TLGG's characters and world a little more. However, I will make a note of when they happen in regards to the story._

 _That said, these stories likely won't make much sense if you haven't read The Lowlanders' Grand Game._

 _Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And feel free to ask me questions or give me prompts for other chapters. I'm gonna be busy through the first week of June, but after that, I will have time to write again. Yey._

...-...

"Cul!"

Cullen sighed as he pulled on the reins of the steed drawing the wagon he and Katrina were seated at the front of. Though the horse stopped, it still clopped its feet in place nervously, looking around as though it had been through this sort of thing before.

Not addressing the voice who had called out to him, Cullen tilted his head, suddenly noting that the steed looked eerily similar to the one Katrina had attempted to ride off on almost three years ago.

How had he not noticed that before?

Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

However, familiar as the horse might or might not be, that was hardly a real concern at the moment.

With a sigh, he turned to watch Garrett ride out from the tree line, war paint donned, and a wicked looking axe hanging against his back. Fenris rode out beside him in similar raiding gear, as well as a surprisingly pale redheaded woman—at least she appeared it from what could be seen through her war paint—who seemed more than a little annoyed that her thane was greeting their target rather than raiding them.

When he was close enough to talk comfortably, Garrett leaned forward in his seat, frowning. "I'm mad at you."

Katrina propped herself up so that she was on her knees, arms wrapped around Cullen's shoulders as she peered over his head, her chin in his hair. "If you try to steal my man, I'll fight you."

Despite his frown twisting into a rather characteristic grin for a split second, Garrett mostly managed to maintain his false anger. "You ran off to the Lowlands to fight villains without telling me." He looked over at Fenris. "I believe I was very specific about them informing me of what was to come of those journals."

Fenris nodded. "You were."

"And what if I had?" Cullen asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Would you have also set down your mantle as thane and joined me in setting right the Lowlands?"

At that, Garrett gave up his accusatory tone and just cackled. "No. But I might have sent someone with you!"

"It turns out our party was the perfect size," Cullen replied dryly.

"Yet I recall hearing that more of you left."

"Most everyone went their separate ways," Katrina offered. "Most stayed in the Lowlands, though Morrigan did head off to rejoin her clan. Everyone else is scattered across the map."

Fenris asked something in that Lowlander tongue that Cullen didn't recognize—he was quite fluent with common these days, though most of the other foreign tongues still eluded him, despite Katrina's efforts to share her knowledge—and Katrina laughed and responded in turn.

Cullen liked the feel of her against him. Reaching up, he lightly clasped a hand around hers. "Garrett, I don't wish to critique you, but this is a terrible raid."

"That's what Aveline told me when I saw you."

"No," the redheaded woman beside him said, sighing as she rolled her eyes. She looked tired, beyond her years, like she was used to having to get people out of trouble that they could have easily avoided with minimal effort. "I said, 'Korth's teeth, don't fraternize with the targets.'" She closed her eyes, head shaking. "And then you did."

Garrett turned in his seat to look at his arena master. "We're still going to take all their stuff."

"You can't have Cullen," Katrina reiterated.

"What if I steal you?"

"Do I need to remind you what a fucking Free Marcher is?" Katrina snapped.

Closing his eyes, Cullen took in a deep breath and held it. When he let it out, he looked back at Garrett. "I don't suppose, after you're done raiding, you could direct us toward where we can find the Red Lions?"

"They're right where you left them."

Cullen stared at Garret, eyes narrowing slightly. "You…you can't be serious. They didn't move?"

"Thane Jim didn't think it would be necessary."

"Jim." Cullen echoed. "Jim is thane."

The silence that followed was tenuous at best.

"No, he's not." Aveline sighed.

Fenris had moved his horse closer as he spoke quietly with Katrina, though at Aveline's correction, he looked back at her. "Why would you do that? He'll pout that you ruined his fun for days."

"It's not that bad."

"You don't have to sleep with him," Fenris pressed. "He'll wake me up in the middle of the night asking why you did it. Just like last time with the Silver Fennecs. It took him months to get over that. Hakkon's breath, he still grouses about it sometimes."

Katrina perked up. "What happened with the Silver Fennecs?"

The Whitefeather Hawks simply groaned. Two of their warriors had already come up behind the wagon and started unloading it. Cullen watched them with little interest. He and Katrina had known damned well they'd be raided when they'd headed down this path. They'd planned on it, rather, hence the focus on supplies that would be useful to the Avvar. After all, if his people were still nearby, the Lions could just raid the Hawks and get it back.

"So who _is_ the thane?"

"I'm still mad," Garrett maintained. "Not only did you not tell me of your plans, but by the time I found out, the Gods said that you were out of Orlais. How can I mount a daring rescue to save a dear friend when he saves himself before I can get there?" He placed a hand over his chest. "We were heartbroken."

"He was heartbroken," Fenris clarified.

"Why must you do this to me?" Garrett asked, looking back at Fenris. "I need solidarity, not dissonance among my ranks."

Fenris simply met his gaze with a neutral look of his own. As soon as Garrett turned away, a smirk flashed across the elf's face. It was gone with Garrett looked back at him, suspicious.

"The world is truly against you, dear thane," Katrina offered, arms still wrapped around Cullen.

"I'll get by, somehow." With a grin, Garrett leaned forward in his seat again. "I suppose I should let you know that there will be revelry tonight, and we may not be guarding the horses quite so well."

"Are you going to make us steal a horse?" Katrina asked, straightening up a little. It made her press closer to Cullen, and he found his mind wandering rather than staying invested in the conversation.

"We don't give people things, here in the mountains, dear Lowlander. You have to earn it."

"And you're telling us that you're not going to guard your horses is us earning the right to take one?" Katrina asked.

Aveline was massaging her temples, ruining her war paint. "It's a wonder the Gods haven't forsaken us."

Cullen mulled it over a minute before tilting his head. Why not play by Garrett's rules for once? "Or. During the chaos of the raid, you lost track of us, and we managed to get the horse free and head into the wilderness. You decided the chase wasn't worth it."

Garrett's smile was a bit too enthusiastic. Aveline chose to abandon the conversation, instead directing the rest of the raid to ignore the idiots and do their jobs.

They seemed used to this by now and simply went about unloading the supplies and dragging them off into the woods. Cullen wondered just how differently Garrett treated actual Lowlanders. He could almost see the thane doing this exact same thing to them as he was doing to Cullen.

Cullen wasn't sure if that offended him or not.

"So then. Who _is_ the thane of the Red Lions now?"

"Cassandra."

"Then who's the Arena Master?" Cullen frowned.

"Well," Garrett started, rolling his eyes slowly as he shrugged. "From what I hear, there's been a few, though no one's really held the title long. I hear they're looking for one now, actually. Someone with years of training and whatnot. Someone who used to expect the title, before life got in the way." Even as Cullen lightly pulled away from Katrina and moved to unhitch their horse, Garrett added, "It's you. They're waiting for you."

"Yes, I gathered as much." Cullen sighed, looking back at Garrett and resisting the urge to throw something at him. Like the horse. "Thank you. For letting me know."

Garrett nodded. "If you want, you can stay with us for a while. We'd love to hear about the Lowlands."

"Cullen really wants to get home," Katrina said, dropping down from the wagon and trotting over to where he was fiddling with the tangle of reins and ties. She easily undid them.

"We'll come visit you, then," Garrett shrugged. Then he laughed. "Cassandra likes me, wouldn't you know? She's heard of some of my adventures. Thinks I'm brilliant."

"Don't worry," Fenris interjected. "She still kicked his ass when he tested the territory boundaries."

"Good, this mess started for me with a deal to restore my clan's boundaries. I'd hate for them to have lost it so soon."

As Garrett chattered on about little things that had happened, and prodded him for details about their 'adventures' in the Lowlands, Cullen glanced around at the small clearing they'd stopped in. It was the very one that he and Katrina had first met in, almost three years ago.

As Katrina finished with the reins and carefully tugged the horse away from the wagon, Cullen stepped up beside her, pausing to kiss her before swinging up onto the steed's back. He reached down and helped her up in front of him, an odd sense of peace washing over him.

No matter what life might throw at them, things would be alright. Even without a God there to whisper those words in their ears when things looked bleak, they would persevere. Their last two years in the Lowlands had proven that.

Change might be inevitable, in the mountains and beyond—if Orlais' civil war, exile of the grand duke, and the shift of interest in the court to see to it that the elves were treated with more respect and equality was any indication—but sometimes there were things that lasted through the strains of time. The seasons always shifted, the Lady always watched over her people, and the mountains would always be home.

With a word, he urged their steed toward the tree line, the wind whipping around them and encouraging them onwards, together.


	2. Speaking Tongues

_A/N: Garrett x Fenris fluff._

...-...

" _Give me cake or give me death_!"

The words were clumsy, but clearly Tevene.

Fenris looked up from where he was sharpening his sword, green gaze wandering slowly across the room of the Avvar home to see Garrett standing in the doorway, looking quite pleased with himself.

Since being saved by the Avvar thane years ago, Fenris kept expecting himself to get used to the man's odd ways, and yet that day had not come.

"Do you actually know what you said?" Fenris asked in the Avvar tongue, not bothering to reply in Tevene.

However, before Garrett could answer, he paused. How had the man even known to say that? It wasn't like there was anyone out here who could teach him the language.

"I assume gibberish," Garrett replied, sauntering over and slinging his arms over Fenris' shoulders, his chin resting in Fenris' hair. "But it is a nice way to bring up the fact that you've never taught me your language."

"You have enough trouble with common," Fenris muttered, giving up on finishing with his weapon so long as Garrett was hanging off him.

Garrett was quiet a moment, his weight growing heavy on Fenris' shoulders before he abruptly let him go. When Fenris turned around to appraise him, brow arched, Garrett crossed his arms. "I do well enough." Before Fenris could admit that this was true, Garrett added, "And if you wanted, I'd try harder when learning your language."

With a blink, Fenris leaned back a little to get a better look at Garrett. He was serious.

"What's brought this about?"

"When you and Cullen's Lowlander were talking…you seemed happy." Garrett paused, frowning a little, "When you weren't insisting on leaving me to be eaten by their damned hold-beast."

"You did try to steal his Lowlander when you already have me."

"Not to keep her. I was making a point and saving a relationship," Garrett insisted. "They will name their first born after me."

Fenris let out a bark of a laugh at that. Setting his sword to the side, he rose to his feet and stretched. "I suppose it was fun to speak it again." While he hadn't many fond memories of Tevinter—next to none, really—he'd never found himself able to hate the language itself.

"Well, if you want to be able to speak it more…" Garrett shifted a little awkwardly on his feet. That an Avvar thane could be brought to act like an embarrassed, small boy was amusing, and Fenris didn't bother to hide his smile.

"I like your language more."

It was true enough. While he didn't hate Tevene itself, he had no fond memories of it. Most of the words were tied with people and places he never wanted to see again. The Avvar tongue, however… He couldn't think of a word in their language that _didn't_ bring a fond memory to mind.

"So long as you're happy," Garrett murmured.

Reaching up to put a hand on Garrett's cheek, Fenris smiled. "You think I'd still be here if I wasn't?"

At that, Garrett nodded, content with the answer. Ducking his head down, he caught Fenris off guard with a passionate kiss. When they finally broke apart, however, Fenris saw an all too familiar look on his face and frowned at the silence that ensued.

"Just ask whatever it is."

"What _did_ I say?"

"You told me to feed you or kill you."


	3. A Proposal of Sorts

_A/N: This is a Fenris x Avvar!Garrett story. Someday Imma write how they met. That day is not today ._._

...-...

Fenris slouched back beneath the cliff face. It wasn't a cave, per se—he wasn't sure what the word would be for it, really—but with the winds coming in as they were, it kept the rain off him as he watched the sky pour down to flood the world below.

He was not a fan of mud season in the Frostbacks, had never liked the squik of it between his toes. Though, he'd have to deal with it regardless once the rain stopped. It almost made him suggest they go ahead and get soaked. The hold wasn't that much further, and they'd be walking through sludge regardless.

Even as he glowered, Garrett picked up their weapons—they'd laid both of them back against the cliff to rest their shoulders—and swapped places with them, sitting beside Fenris and inching a little closer every few seconds.

"You planned this," Fenris finally said, tone annoyed, when Garrett was arm to arm with him.

"Planned what?" Garrett asked, straightening up and looking around. "I can hardly control the weather."

"You knew the storm was coming." Fenris shifted a little away from him so that he could turn and give Garrett a proper frown.

At that, the Avvar thane tilted his head one way and then the other, face twisting different ways as he tried to think of something to say to excuse himself. He paused, narrowing his eyes as though to weigh something he was going to say and then paused.

Even as Fenris rolled his eyes and started to shift further away, Garrett reached out and clasped his hand. "Wait. I…I wanted to talk to you."

Fenris rolled his eyes slowly toward Garrett. "And we couldn't talk back at the hold?"

"Look, it's…it's about the whole stealing a partner thing."

At that, Fenris' gaze snapped back toward Garrett, narrowing ever so slightly despite himself.

Since the Hawke clan had helped him fend off Tevinter Slavers, Fenris had been staying with them, learning their customs and their language. He was a quick study to the latter, and a reluctant student for the former.

He'd been particularly put off by their marriage practices. The men went to other holds—and occasionally a woman might go with them—to steal their brides.

At first, Fenris had thought it another form of slavery and had been appalled that his rescuers might be just as vile as the people he'd escaped from.

And then he'd started to notice the way people talked about the practice of stealing a wife. The women—and occasional man—brought back rarely seemed bothered at having been taken from their life, often enthusiastic to begin their new one.

More than that, the Avvar had two words for 'steal'. One was only ever used in reference to taking a bride—or the rare husband.

Fenris didn't want to make excuses for them, but the more he interacted with them, learned their cultures, the more he felt like there was an error in translating their rituals for getting a bride as stealing. It was more than that.

It was a rite of passage that required permission. People could request to be taken, and if one could prove themselves worthy, they were able to start their life with someone.

He didn't pretend to understand it, but it wasn't stealing. It was…something his culture hadn't a word for.

Garrett was still sitting beside him, one hand reached out as though to take Fenris'. As though he was worried that if he tried, Fenris would pull away.

His earlier annoyance at having been caught alone in the storm slipped away, and he tilted his head. "Go on."

"Well, it's tradition to steal a bride—partner, really," Garrett began, rolling his eyes as he corrected himself. "And I just… I do not wish to steal you."

For a moment, Fenris didn't quite follow what he was saying.

Over the past few months they'd gotten to be close. It had started with stories told over firelight, and had moved to training together and then…

Garrett was the most awkward flirt Fenris had ever seen. The man tumbled over his compliments and blushed like a boy and—on two occasions—ran away when he wasn't sure what to say.

It was not something Fenris would have expected from a thane of a 'barbarian tribe', but he found that most things people said about the Avvar were poorly interpreted if not outright misrepresented in general. They were a wonderful people, and more and more he felt like they were his.

Fenris eyed Garrett for a moment, wondering just what this confession meant. He knew some of the elders of clan had been badgering Garrett to find someone. They'd been doing that since before Fenris showed up, apparently.

Had he finally decided it was time to be serious for his clan?

"I hope you don't expect me to sling you over my shoulders," Fenris offered, trying to break the tension. His anger was long gone, and now he just wanted Garrett to take back what he'd said.

"No, I don't expect you to," Garrett let out a half laugh that was weaker than his usual bellow by far. "I just… I remember what you said about people being their own, and I… I don't want to steal you." He nodded a little, looking earnestly at Fenris. "I want you to stay because you want to. I want you to be here forever. I want you to help me annoy Carver, and make it impossible for Bethany to study, and help defend the hold, and just be here…with me."

Fenris sat there a moment, the rest of the world falling away as he stared at the thane. When he abruptly realized he'd stopped breathing, Fenris let out a whoosh of breath and then inhaled. "Is that all, then?"

Garrett had been holding his breath as well, and he let his out a little shakily, trying to give Fenris one of his crooked grins. "I could probably add a few more things, if you'd like."

Leaning forward, Fenris cupped Garrett's face in his hands and kissed him, soft and slow at first, though as Garrett's shock wore off, it became more passionate. As Fenris lips trailed down Garrett's neck, he let out another breath. "So you'll stay?"

"No, I always kiss fools before I break their hearts," Fenris murmured against his skin, smiling as Garrett turned, his beard scratching against Fenris' cheek.

"Better make this kiss last then."

"You'd better."


	4. Heading Home

_A/N: Cullen x Katrina fluff. Thank you for reading!_

...-...

"My hand is cold. Unless we find somewhere to stop soon, it's going up your back."

Cullen arched his brow as he turned toward Katrina, head tilting to the side ever so slightly, his wild and unruly curls tumbling about his face as the wind caught them.

While the wind was playing with Katrina's hair as well, it merely blew it in haphazard wisps from her face and attempted bun. Whenever they did stop, she'd be complaining about how much of a mess it was for a good hour, at least.

Her nose and ears were red, lips looking a little purple, and her breath escaped her in the huffs he was so accustomed to given life by the ice in the air.

"You know, I am feeling a little warm," Cullen offered with a shrug, tugging their steed's reins and turning the beast so that they could maneuver around a budding cliff that was more like to stretch one for miles and miles than stop any time soon.

He kept thinking that he recognized landmarks, but after wandering the Lowlands so long with Katrina, his memories were a little fuzzy, and he was far too eager to be home. If what he'd been told was right, his hold was right where they'd left it when they went to untangle the Frostback Mountains from the Lowlander scheming in Orlais.

Without further invitation, Katrina tugged his shirt up and slide her hands underneath the fabric, though they rested on his stomach rather than his back.

"Better?" He asked, trying to hide the grin in his voice as she shivered closer to him.

"How are you warm?"

"It's not even snowing, love."

He was fairly certain he could feel her scowl through his shirt as she pressed her face against him, trying to escape the wind.

"Doesn't have to snow to be miserable."

"If you want to go back—"

"We _are_ going back," she muttered, squeezing him a bit tighter as though the mere suggestion had been a hint of parting ways.

"We could settle somewhere in Ferelden, if you want."

"If we're going to be cold, we might as well be with your family," Katrina retorted. She hadn't been overly fond of Ferelden while they'd wandered their way through it, instead constantly comparing it to Starkhaven and expressing how much better her 'terribly uptight, overly religious corner of the Void' was.

However, their general consensus was that it was still leagues better than Orlais, the epitome of everything terrible and wrong with any good civilization.

They'd been told they might change their minds if they ever went to Tevinter, but neither of them had been overly inclined to go that far north.

Cullen had almost died of heatstroke in Rivain.

That had been when Katrina had suddenly gotten interested in wandering back toward the south and wouldn't it figure that their path led them through the Frostbacks. The Hawk clan telling them that the Red Lions were exactly where they'd left them seemed almost like it had to have been part of the plan, too, impossible as it was. After all, she had no way to contact any of the clans, though he had heard her pray in her awkward, 'I don't know if you're real, but would like to think so' way to the Lady to keep him safe until he was home again.

He knew she worried for him, but that didn't mean they should give up one of their health for the other.

If he was completely comfortable, she'd freeze, and when she was well off, he felt like he was on fire.

And not in a remotely pleasant way.

However, he could tell before she'd admitted it that she was wrangling him back toward Avvar territory, and so he'd played along, pretending to be surprised when she finally confessed she worried about his health and thought he belonged up in the mountain peaks with his family.

Perhaps if he talked to Galyan about what could be done, there was something magical that would let Katrina fare better in the winters and cold in general.

Her fingers flexed against his muscles and he reached down and patted her hands through his shirt, squeezing one of them as she sighed against his back. "Do you want to stop for the night?"

"It's not night yet."

He turned where he sat in the saddle as best he could to cast a glance back at her. "You said we needed to find a place, though."

"I just wanted an excuse to feel you up,"

It was a lie, but he figured he'd let her keep her pride a little longer. Patting her hands through his shirt again, he straightened in his seat and continued to scan the woods for something genuinely familiar.


	5. A Hakkonite For A Bride

_A/N: I've been wanting to write this for a long time, so I'm glad I finally got it down. Thank you for reading!_

...-...

Cassandra An Tigana O Hakkonkeep Dragonsbane of Hakkon's Keep was not one to mince words.

As with most of her clan, after the untimely raid upon their people by Tevinter bastards searching for a way to collect slaves from places where their disappearances had been assumed would be less noticeable, she had developed somewhat of a thick skin, her trust in outsiders and even other Avvar clans nigh non-existent.

The world and the Gods themselves seemed to have turned their back on what had once been the Thorn Bear Hold, and they still bore the scars from it, both physically and mentally.

As with the nuance that came with claiming kinship to the God of Winter, most other tribes avoided them when they could, never sure how deeply rooted in vengeance and chaos and death their clan actually was.

It was well enough, or so Cassandra had thought. After the way her brother, Anthony, had been killed, she certainly didn't like people trying to warm up to her.

As she was patrolling through the woods on her own initiative, she found tracks that looked Avvarian. While she normally would have passed them by and figured it to be a hunter or someone who would turn back so soon as they realized they were in Hakkon territory, something instead made her follow those footprints.

And that had led her to one of the most bizarre things she'd ever seen.

An Avvarian man hung upside down in one of the trees, drying blood across his body in various splotches, though there didn't seem to be any cuts or bruises as a source.

When he saw her, he brightened instantly. "Hello! I don't suppose I could get a bit of help, could I?"

She stared up at the man, unmoving, for several long, drawn out moments, wondering if she shouldn't just spear him where he hung and leave him for the birds.

He seemed to read that in her expression, as his smile slipped and he pinched his brow together. His face was red from all the blood flowing the wrong way. "I…I'm here on my Gods' behest. There was something wrong, and they wanted me to fix it."

Cassandra cocked her head and crossed her arms. "What is wrong?"

"I…cannot quite say. They're being rather finicky about it."

"If your Gods brought you here, they had better make themselves known."

No sooner had the words left her lips, then a single reddish light glinted into being, flitting anxiously around the man before fading away slowly. While it could have been an illusion created by the man—obviously a shaman—she felt that, when dealing with any Gods, it was good to err on the side of caution.

It took almost fifteen minutes to get that man down—how he'd managed to tangle himself so badly in tree branches was beyond her—but as soon as he hit the ground, she turned her back to him, disinterested in whatever his task might be.

"I…I don't suppose you know this area, do you?"

As the hand landed on her shoulder, she gripped his wrist and flipped him up and over her, so that he landed on his back on the ground. "Do not presume to be so friendly."

"Well, it's just that you're here, so clearly it's for a reason."

"The reason being that I followed a fool." Cassandra waved him off. He was thin, for a man, almost as willowy as a lowlander. "Tell me, should you be making your Gods wait so?"

Despite her attempts to get him to go away, he insisted that he needed a guide, for his God was somehow as lost as he was.

"They've not been here since the trees were small things, and they don't dare tread into the dreams guarded by other Gods."

With a pronounced sigh, Cassandra turned back to him. While she'd considered simply skewering him, if she did that, it might anger his Gods—God, from the look of it—and she didn't wish to be so disrespectful, even if it wasn't one of hers. "If I help you find where you wish to go, you will leave me be?"

"I will."

"And you will not change your mind or bother me further?"

"I will not."

With a disgusted noise, she shook her head, unable to believe she would let herself do this. "Where is it you need to go?"

The shaman was named Galyan Ar Annette O Lionhold of the Red Lion Hold—he had no legend-mark, unsurprisingly—and he was looking for a waterfall.

When he first described it, she'd just about tossed him off the nearest cliff, but as he spoke, his God began to speak with him more and told him details that rang familiar to Cassandra.

With only a second's hesitation, she led him through her home to the where he was seeking.

It took three days on foot, and the man chattered away the whole time. At first, Cassandra considered threatening him to shut up, yet something stayed her sharp tongue, and she let him ramble on. Despite his weak appearance, he seemed adequate enough at surviving in the mountains—even if he had gotten caught in a tree somehow.

"Tell me how you ended up so high in the air," she said on the eve of the third day, figuring that if he was going to talk, it might as well be about something that would interest her—a lot of what he said interested her, not that she would admit it.

"Well. It's a little embarrassing," he admitted, glancing away from her as his cheeks flushed. For the first time, it was as though his words had dried up. After what felt like an eternity of prodding on her part, he finally winced. "I tried to float myself up above the trees to get a look around. It worked well enough, until it was time to come down."

"So the blood was yours?"

"I'm a fairly apt healer," he proclaimed, seemingly taking that as an excuse to change the subject. "Fortunate, that. I might have bled out before you found me, otherwise."

…-…

They stood before the waterfall the next afternoon, and despite everything, Cassandra felt odd telling the man goodbye.

Even so, she'd held her end of the bargain and saw no reason to waste her time further. She was probably missed in her hold at this point, and she had a feeling that if anyone came looking for her, they'd take one look at the waif she was helping and drown him.

It was the end of an odd adventure, nothing more.

She'd barely made it a few yards down from the waterfall when she heard the sounds of something exploding and had, without thinking, whirled around and headed back to see what was going on.

There was a small cave behind the waterfall, and she found Galyan there, surrounded by ash wraiths.

Though she'd been bent on charging in, the man's way with magic stopped her, and she was enraptured by how easily he moved and cast. While she hadn't thought much of him before, she had to say that were she in a fight, she'd be confident with him at her back.

Even as she thought that, two of the wraiths slithered up behind him, and she snapped out of her awe.

With a yell that startled the wraiths and Galyan alike, she charged at the nearest one, distracting them from their original target and keeping them occupied while he healed her and helped pick off the monsters.

When two tried to overwhelm her at once, Galyan swung his staff into one, delaying it just long enough for Cassandra to off the first and then bash the second with her shield.

When the last of them fell, he grinned at her, pulling a small sphere from his bags and walking to the back of the cave. What looked to be little more than old rock proved to be an altar of some kind, and as he placed the sphere down, the entire room broke into wild light, countless Gods flitting about the ruins in jubilation.

Cassandra had never seen anything like it.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, it was gone.

When she looked, the orb appeared as little more than added rubble, and she quietly marveled at whatever task she'd helped with.

Galyan trotted back over to her, a wide grin in place as he stopped in front of her, leaning forward a little to peer into her eyes. "You're quite lovely when you fight, you know."

At that, Cassandra let out a startled gasp. "You are…not serious."

"Oh, very," he assured her before sighing and letting his gaze wander wistfully toward the exit. "I suppose this is where we part ways, isn't it?"

For the first time since Anthony's death, she wanted someone to stay.

Foolish, that. After all, he wasn't even from her clan.

But his smile had been one of the warmest things she'd seen in years, and she found herself oddly disappointed to part ways with him so suddenly.

He seemed to linger a moment, as well, before leaning forward and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

With that, he was gone. Back to wherever he came from. The Lion's Hold.

…-…

Hakkon's Keep was a whir with whispers as everyone talked of the fool who had come to request to steal a bride. It almost never happened here, as it was assumed that beatings would be considerably worse from Hakkonites than other clans, and yet…

And yet Cassandra couldn't stop herself from heading to the village elders' home, to see who the great fool could be.

Somehow, she knew.

Before she heard his voice, before she saw that head of brown hair, that willowy body, she knew.

Galyan Ar Annette O Lionhold of the Red Lion Hold.

His gaze happened toward her as she stopped in her tracks, just inside one of the entrances, and he smiled brightly and pointed right at her. "I've come for her."

Silence reigned within the wood walls, no one sure what to make of his proclamation.

And then, with a heavy sigh, Cassandra knew what must be done. If she didn't, then this man's fate would hang over her forever, and oddly enough, that wasn't something she could bear.

Striding forward, she rolled her eyes as he greeted her warmly and then shouldered him, looking to the elders as a disgusted noise caught in her throat. "Close your eyes. I'm being stolen."

And with that, she walked out of the hold.


End file.
